The Elder's Scrolls

Being Watched

Lest the guards notice her, the thin Dunmer kept the hood of her cloak pulled tight to her lowered head as she hurriedly and silently maneuvered the frozen streets of Windhelm.

Beneath the billowing folds of the Dunmer's cloak, a bulging leather purse plumped against her thigh as she flitted from shadow to shadow back to the Grey Quarter. The snow hailing down relentlessly blinded her, but the young elf knew the streets as well as she knew her own body.

A male Dunmer, possibly in his early fourties, stood in the porchway of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, hands placed impatiently on his hips. The fast approach of the slight cloaked female elf gave him a visible show of relief. Through the raging blizzard, the man spoke:

"Azura's pointed ears, Indrele, What took you so long, eh? I thought the guards'd jailed you!"

The cloaked Dunmer gave a low chuckle as she climbed the stone steps to stand beside her friend. She reached up a gloved hand to pull her hood away, revealing dark, ashen grey skin, maroon red eyes, and two flecks of cream war paint beneath each eye.

"No, Ambarys, the guards didn't jail me. I didn't see not one, but I was just being careful. You know how the guards are,"

Ambarys grunted. "Fine," the aging Dunmer turned on his heels and shuffled over to the door, pulling it open. "Let's head inside. This blizzard won't be relenting any time soon,"

With an agreeing nod, Indrele followed Ambarys inside the New Gnisis Club. Indrele sighed in content. The heat from the fire washed over her frozen body, filling it with the natural warmth she was used to. Shrugging off her cloak, she placed it on the back of a wooden chair near the hearth.

Ambarys eyed the coin purse on her hip. "I see you got the gold. No trouble?"

"None," Indrele sighed again, though in a more worrisome way. "But I can't keep going out to the farms to harvest their crops."

"And why not?" Ambarys demanded crossly. "Don't tell me it's because of the weather,"

"Not just the weather, Ambarys. The Nords are becoming so stringent. A weeks pay for harvesting their crops used to be five hundred gold. Now it's two - fifty."

A gasp escaped the aged Dunmer's mouth. "How dare they? You spend all of your days in the freezing cold doing their labor work, and they lower the pay?"

Indrele leaned her head on her hand. "Yes."

"Torsten Cruel - Sea hasn't, has he?"

Indrele nodded. "All the farmers have. It seems they've come to some sort of agreement. I've talked to each farm owner, and they refuse to raise pay."

Ambarys rubbed his temple agitatedly. "How am I to continue paying for the place if the Nords lower the pay?" He gave an angry growl. "Ulfric'll have us kicked out quicker than you can beg."

The thin Dunmer girl placed the coin purse on the table. "I know. Seven -hundred fifty gold isn't enough, is it?"

"Gods, no. Our taxes have been raised again. As of now, I'm paying one - thousand, eight - hundred and twenty - two septims for the Cornerclub. And that's got to be paid by next Fredas."

Indrele huffed miserably. "I hate living here, I swear I do."

"I hate it too, Indrele. But I can't do anything about it. If I had the coin, I'd go right back to Morrowind."

The silence after his words was thick and filled with emotion. After a while, Ambarys locked the door to the Cornerclub, then disappeared up the rickety steps with a murmured, "goodnight."

Indrele sat in thought for hours after Ambarys has gone to bed. Different things raced through her head, thoughts of leaving Windhelm forever; of possibly joining the Legion, and killing Ulfric Stormcloak; most importantly, though, of returning to Morrowind.

On a shelf by the door, Indrele took a scrap piece of parchment and a tattered quill and inkwell. Using the table for support, she quickly scrawled a note. After she'd rereaded it twice, she placed the coin purse on the corner of the parchment.

With a sweeping motion, she pulled the warm cloak onto her shoulders, fastened the silver clasp around her neck, and pulled the hood tight to her head. She gave the New Gnisis Cornerclub, her home for as long as she could remember, one last glance before unlocking the door and slipping out into the soft snowfall outside.

I'm sorry, Ambarys.

I can't continue living this way. We're constantly being watched. I know you know this. The guards harass our people and we do nothing. The Jarl treats us so unfairly, and we only sit idly by. We barely get by as it is. Look at us. The tattered clothes we have hang from our bony frames in horrible ways. The townspeople hate us, and mock us daily. What kind of life is this?

I can't stay here any longer. I'm sorry. I'm going to Riften, with hopes of finding a job there. If I am successful, I will come back to you and everyone else with my pockets running over with coin. We'll all leave this horrid city, and return to Morrowind. I promise.

Love always,

Indrele Sero